


Nothing Left

by riventhorn



Category: The Eagle | Eagle of the Ninth (2011)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-08
Updated: 2011-09-08
Packaged: 2017-10-23 12:50:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/250482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riventhorn/pseuds/riventhorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a prompt at the_eagle_kink: Much to his shame, Marcus finds that he is aroused by the way Esca treats him in the Seal Clan's village, now that Esca has all the power and control. Despite his shame, the need proves stronger, and one night he comes to Esca and gets on his knees.</p><p>Warnings: humiliation, could be considered dub-con</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing Left

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Не осталось ничего](https://archiveofourown.org/works/749426) by [Anerin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anerin/pseuds/Anerin)



Marcus lay still in the close heat of the lodge, the embers of the smoky fire still coughing up the occasional spark. His face ached from the beating he had received—first Liathan, and then Esca slapping him for daring to smile at a pretty woman. Marcus didn’t even know her name, couldn’t understand a damn thing that was said between Esca and the Seal Prince. And then Esca…

Squirming, Marcus couldn’t stop his hips from jolting forward in pitiful, truncated jerks. He was hard, just from thinking about Esca forcing him to his knees and gripping his hair. He didn’t _want_ to be aroused. It was shameful, to think that he had enjoyed being debased like that. At the time, he had been able to attribute the emotions that had shot through him to anger, but now—he couldn’t deny the evidence of his body.

He wouldn’t touch himself. He wouldn’t give in to this. He was a Roman, a citizen, a Centurion.

Except he wasn’t, was he? His lame leg had already cost him his rank, and out here, his class and status meant nothing. He was a slave. And slaves…slaves were meant to serve their masters.

He fidgeted in his blankets for a few more minutes and then sat up abruptly. Keeping his head down, he made his way to the lodge where Esca was housed. Esca was inside, lounging by the fire, absorbed in fletching an arrow. Thank Mithras that he was alone, although Marcus wasn’t sure the presence of another would have stopped him from what he was about to do.

Esca frowned when he saw Marcus, and his eyes flickered to the doorway. “What is it?” he asked. “Why are you here?”

Some of Marcus’s earlier anger returned, but his arousal only intensified, stoked by the brusque tone of Esca’s words.

“I’m here—” He stopped, shutting his eyes. What would his father think, if he could see him now? About to get on his knees in front of a slave—because that’s what Esca was, he was still Marcus’s _property._ But his father was dead, gone. There was nobody to care.

“Speak,” Esca ordered, standing up.

Marcus dropped to his knees. “I’m here to serve you,” he said, quiet, and his face burned.

A few moments of silence passed, and he chanced a glance upwards. Esca was looking at him, but Marcus couldn’t read his expression.

“Did someone send you here?” Esca demanded.

He could lie. But his honor was already stained enough. He shook his head.

Esca drew in a sharp breath, and his hand rubbed at his groin, a quick, unconscious gesture. And then he stepped forward, fast, and grabbed Marcus’s hair again. “You liked this, then? What I did to you today?”

He couldn’t answer for the choking shame lodged in his throat, but the whimper that escaped him was plain to hear.

Esca gripped harder and pulled his head forward, thrusting his crotch into Marcus’s face. “I thought only your Roman whores did this. Is that what you are, Marcus? Is that what was hiding under all your armor, all your fancy medals—a cock-hungry whore?”

He could smell Esca’s arousal. And his words—Marcus writhed, scrabbling at Esca’s legs. He was a whore, a slave—he was nothing now. He was nothing. And he needed—

Esca’s breath came fast and he let go of Marcus to open his laces. He pulled out his cock and stroked it a few times, thumbing back the foreskin over the head, and then he held it, ready. “Go on,” he told Marcus. “Get your mouth on it.”

He’d never done this. The feel of his own cock, heavy in his hand, was familiar, but this was strange, shocking—working his lips over the head, the taste of the fluid seeping out onto his tongue, the spit dribbling down his chin.

Groaning, Esca touched his face, skimming the bruises before smearing his spit around his mouth. “Take it, Marcus,” he ordered softly, pressing in a little farther. “Show me how good you can be, yes?”

He obeyed as best he could, throat working, fighting to breathe, trying to shift his legs to ease his own painful hardness. Esca widened his stance, sighing, and reached out to pet a hand through his hair. “Shall I mark you?” he murmured. “I think I should. To show them that you belong to _me_. So that no one dares to _touch_ you without—ah!” He broke off, crying out, and pulled back as he started to spurt. But he kept his cockhead pressed to Marcus’s lips, and Marcus licked up his come as it streamed out.

He felt filthy when he sat back onto his heels. Filthy, and ashamed, and hard—fuck, he was hard. Trembling, he started to get to his feet, wanting nothing more than to flee back to his own blankets.

“Stop,” Esca snapped. “I haven’t given you leave to go.” Marcus froze and looked up. Esca was giving his softening prick a few lazy strokes and staring at him. “Touch yourself. Make yourself come. Show me how much you enjoyed this.”

He started to shake his head, but Esca grabbed his jaw, holding him still. “Be good, Marcus,” he warned.

So he undid his laces, and took himself in hand. His eyes fixed on Esca’s face as his hand pumped up and down, and when Esca’s mouth twitched up in a half-smile of approval, he groaned, reaching down to finger his balls, find just the right amount of pressure. His seed stained his tunic when he came, and he looked down at himself, panting.

“You’ll have to wear that tomorrow, and everyone will know what you did,” Esca observed gently, and Marcus whimpered, appalled and yet somehow the thought sent another jab of lust through him, and his cock twitched again.


End file.
